Thanks For The Memories
by Shaitanah
Summary: They learned to live without L just to lose each other in the end. MelloNear. Please R&R!


**Title**: "Thanks For The Memories"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: hard R

**Summary**: They learned to live without L just to lose each other in the end. Mello/Near. Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Death Note _belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.

**A/N**: A minor extension of some manga pieces – like Mello didn't leave the orphanage right away and then stayed to "talk" to Near at the SPK office.

* * *

**THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES**

_Who are you to tell me _

_That I'm less than what I should be?_

Barlow Girl. _"Mirror"

* * *

_

The day everything came crushing down like a badly constructed domino house felt like any other day. The sky was a few shades dimmer; the puzzle begged to be excused; one of his favourite Lego figurines went missing… and finally, L died.

Near sat on the floor in his room and stared at the wall blankly. He attached a string between two small chairs and put a tiny Lego man in the middle of it. He had always had a good sense of balance. He knew how to make the toy stand there without falling.

L had been a perfect string-walker. There was no way he could have lost his balance. Near shook the string. L could not have fallen.

The door snapped open. Near shivered and grasped the string unwittingly. The construction broke and the plastic figurine dropped on the floor.

It was Mello who broke off his experiment. Near cocked his head. Wet streaks glistened on Mello's cheeks. He goggled his puffy eyes at Near in sheer outrage and bellowed:

"What the fuck are you doing? Why aren't you crying?"

"Should I?"

With a fervid hiss Mello kicked the chair. It fell right over the puzzle, the shiny fragments scattered over the carpet.

"Scream, weep, do something to show you care! Otherwise one might think you don't give a damn!"

"I certainly do not give a damn what one might think," Near objected coolly.

Mello grabbed him by the shoulders and stared in his eyes.

"Unlike you I find it unnecessary to pretend," Near remarked.

Mello's eyes darkened with rage. His chocolate-scented breath scorched Near's cheek as he leaned in closer and spat venomously: "Maybe that's because you don't have any feelings it all! How's that, huh? My dear little iceberg!"

"Why are you so angry? Because he failed to choose between us? Or because deep inside you know the one he would have chose would not have been you?"

Mello tossed the small delicate boy down and pinned him to the floor, his knee pushing at Near's chest. Near maintained the same cold, aloof façade. Indeed, he felt nothing but puzzlement and vague scientific curiosity. Death usually made people sad, not furious. He knew he was sad for Mr Wammy who had been a good man. He didn't have to die. He also knew he was _puzzled_ by L's death. How on earth could L be dead when L was… had always been… just…

Near lost himself in these hectic thoughts while staring into Mello's blazing eyes. His throat hurt and his chest was tight. Mello was all that was left. And now Mello was going to leave too.

"I fucking hate you!" Mello shrieked. "I hate you, Near!"

* * *

"_There is nothing good in us," Near had said to Mr Wammy once, not knowing Mello had overheard it.__ "We are no better than the rest even if we are special."_

_Mello always wondered if Near really believed what he had said. If he had really meant it.

* * *

_

"I have one more favour to ask," Mello said coldly. "Near. Talk to me."

The SPK members eyed him suspiciously. Near's back tensed. "We are talking," he replied softly.

"In private. No dogs listening in."

Near rose wordlessly and strode casually towards the door. Scowling at Commander Lester's grudging look, Mello followed. They ended up in a small room, hardly bigger than a closet. White tile laid out the walls. Mello snorted at the flickering lens of a spycam embedded in the lamp.

"You do seem like the type of freak that would have cameras even in his bathroom. Does it get you off, Near?"

The youth didn't look at him directly. He toyed with the lock of his hair absent-mindedly, waiting for Mello to get to the point. It felt unusual to be so close to him after all these years.

Slowly, Mello lowered the gun on the floor. He gave Near an almost sweet smile before locking his fingers around the youth's neck and pinning him against the wall. The weight of his body came crushing down against Near. The youth released a small gasp.

"Honestly, do you ever lose your cool?" Mello breathed huskily. He pushed Near's legs apart, positioning himself between his hips. Near's eyes grew a bit wider. "You're repulsive with your lack of emotions, you know that?"

"You're prone to acting on a whim," Near replied breathlessly.

Mello laughed. He rubbed his cheeks against Near's, his eyes gleaming with atrocious lust. Lust for settling the scores, for winning, for… Near groaned.

"You know, if one of us has to die I'd rather it be you," Mello said casually.

Near's eyes met his. "I'd rather it be you, too," he whispered as though meaning exactly the opposite.

And Mello broke loose. He ripped Near's shirt open, brushing his fingers against his chest; his hand slid down. The fabric cracked. Near inhaled sharply.

Mello covered his face in fervent kisses. Near stayed still, petrified by his hostile, animalistic caress. His body jerked violently at the intrusion when Mello slid inside him. Suddenly it was more than jealousy, offense or childish rivalry. More than a race to win. Mello thrust harder and harder. Near's chest was sleek with sweat. Only the cold tile held him bound to reality. Mello's rosary was trapped between their bodies, the crucifix grinding into Near's ribs. Mello pushed his tongue into Near's mouth, allowed the taste of chocolate clog everything. He stroked Near's tongue with his, swept it over the roof of Near's mouth, sucked at his lips. Near was running out of breath. He whimpered in protest; Mello drew back and then pulled him back into another smothering kiss.

Near's body felt entirely out of control. Mello's every touch brought a wave of liquefying bliss down on him. He arched his back, melting into Mello. His heart thudded against Mello's chest. _Talk_, he suddenly recalled Mello's words. If that was _talk_… He gave in to every possessive touch, and Mello gave him back more and more of himself.

"Why don't you fucking scream?" he panted in his ear.

Scream… Release everything that had been stored inside for many years. Near gasped when Mello flicked his tongue over the edge of his ear tauntingly and suddenly bit him.

Mello had always been a jigsaw puzzle with a missing piece. Somehow you could pretend you didn't notice that something was wrong but that one missing piece, that tiny blank spot hindered to see a wholesome picture.

And Near screamed. It rippled through both of their bodies. One agonizingly sweet moment before and eternity after. Enough to jerk tears from his eyes. Mello pressed his forehead against the tile next to the snowy cloud of Near's hair, his breathing uneven. Near's breath, too, came out in short frequent gasps.

Eternity after Mello pulled away. Near sank on the floor. That could have been his chance to say, "Don't go," and maybe, just _maybe_ Mello would have stayed for but a day, an hour, a minute more. Near said nothing. If anyone of them had ever told the truth, it would have been far less interesting.

"Do you still believe there's nothing good in us?" Mello asked already by the door.

Near regarded his fingernails with a miserable, thoughtful, searching look. "I guess there is something," he said hesitantly, "now."

* * *

_Mello walks__ away without regret. He never had any intention to cooperate with SPK. He wonders if Near would miss him should anything happen. He knows Halle will. She is one hell of a woman, that Lidner. What she likes about him, Mello cannot tell. Unlike the others, she can see beneath his cocky exterior._

"_Drive," he says to Matt. The car starts. Mello takes out the photo, brushes his gloved fingers over the backside. "Dear Mello". Whose handwriting is it? Mello thinks he doesn't want to know. _

_Later he burns__ the photo and the unfamiliar handwriting is licked away by fire._

_Mello wonders__ what will happen after Kira. He can't stop thinking about it after Halle tells him about the fake Notebook. He can't stop thinking about it when he imagines Near dead at the hand of Kira, and suddenly he sees L instead of Near. L was so much better than Near, yet L is gone. He can't stop thinking about it when Matt gets shot. His only friend since the early years. The tough, smart, sharp-witted, caring Matt. _

_Just what will happen _after_ Kira?_

_And then Mello die__s, leaving it all to Near, knowing he was the only one who could do it and hoping that he has done it. Near only has to play his part well._

_After Kira there is all the time in the world. The time is _near.

* * *

The room was dark and oddly lonesome, with all those toys scattered about the floor and the faint scent of an untouched chocolate bar lying in front of him. Near couldn't bring himself to take a bite. He never liked sweets, after all. Or maybe, he never actually had the chance to taste them.

It would have been Mello's. It would have melted in Mello's mouth. Crumbs of it would have stuck to Mello's lips curving into a derisive smile. Near thought about how strange Mello had looked with that scar on his face. Older. More serious. Hell-bent on proving himself.

It was about time Near realized something about Mello. That he really needed him.

Near tore the wrapper off and clutched in his fist.

A polite knock on the door snapped the youth back to reality. He lowered the foil on the floor thoughtfully and turned his head.

"Near… Or should I rather call you L now?"

"I have underestimated his feeling for L, Roger," the youth spoke huskily. "And for me as well, I believe."

"That was, has passed," the old man said wisely, and the words of regret bounced back into Near's mind, feelings never to be confessed in public. Roger had always known, after all.

The door slid shut gently. Darkness condensed around Near, warm, mellow like a blanket. The youth inhaled sharply – and cried. The tears were hot, salty and vaguely familiar like a half-forgotten hello from the childhood…


End file.
